


Barnes To Sickbay

by SinkingStar



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sickfic, gratuitous star trek mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingStar/pseuds/SinkingStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Bucky is completely fucked because Hot Guy has possibly the most beautiful face that he’s ever seen and Bucky is extremely aware that he can’t remember the last time he shaved and his pyjamas are covered in cat hair and he’s all sweaty and disgusting from being ill. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barnes To Sickbay

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself i would never write fanfic.  
> here is the evidence of my failure

Bucky is approximately 5 hours into this Star Trek marathon and he still feels like a steaming plate of boiled garbage. Also, he thinks he might be in love with Brent Spiner, but then again, anybody who watches The Next Generation is. It doesn’t help that this new version of the plague that he seems to have caught is making his head all fuzzy and is severely impeding his cognitive functions. Such as the ability to remember to buy fucking cold medicine. Fucking classic.

When he came home from work yesterday feeling a bit sniffly, he had quieted his mother’s voice in his head that told him to _go and buy some goddamn cough syrup so help me God, James_ and dry swallowed a couple of tablets of paracetamol before passing out on his bed. Fully clothed. He’d woken up this morning with his head aching, his throat on fire, and his nose doing a pretty decent impression of the Niagara Falls. And no cold medicine. Or honey and lemon so he could make a soothing hot drink. Or anything with any nutritious value whatsoever. Because he’s a goddamn mess of a human being apparently. Great.

And like the stubborn bastard he is, he called in sick and refused to leave his apartment all morning and instead sulked like a big gross snotty baby. And so Bucky is now starving. He’s pretty sure they’re out of cat food too so Lieutenant Commander Data ought to be pretty hungry too. Lt. Cmdr. Data meows loudly from where she’s sat next to Bucky on the sofa, demanding attention. Also probably food. Bucky is an awful cat owner.

“Shut up, Data. I’m sick.”

Data meows again, this time putting her front two paws on his lag and digging her claws in. Bucky’s pretty sure that’s Cat for ‘Boo, you whore.’

Bucky sniffs pointedly and gestures to the pile of crumpled tissues on the coffee table.

Data jumps down from the coffee table saunters over to her empty food bowl and glares at Bucky.

It turns into a staring contest.

Bucky loses.

He sighs, throws on an oversized sweater, pulls his hair into a sloppy bun and heads to the grocery store.

 

*

 

People are looking at him strangely. It’s probably because he looks like he’s about to murder everyone in this goddamn grocery store. Well. He’s got his don’t touch me face on but the effect might be weakened by the fact that he’s wearing his pyjamas under this sweater and keeps sniffling. And squinting because the bright fluorescent lights are making his head pound.

He manages to grab some kibble for that asshole he calls his pet. He also shamelessly seizes the last carton of cookie dough ice cream before a small child can get his grubby little hands on it. The kid looks shocked then scowls at Bucky before taking a carton of mint choc chip and marching off to his mother’s cart. Bucky remains guilt free. His need is greater, damn it. He stocks up on essentials and makes sure he has plenty of junk food to eat while he’s watching Star Trek.

Finally, he gets to the medicine aisle. The only other guy there is facing away from Bucky but he can see he’s tall, blonde and built like some kind of body-builder. His tight t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders that narrows down to a tiny waist, like, really, how is that biologically possible? Bucky wants to die. This beautiful guy can’t see him like this. Right now Bucky looks like the reanimated version of his own corpse. That’s been dead for a month or two.

He sneaks into the aisle almost flattening himself against rows of allergy tablets because he’s a fucking creep and needs that goddamn cold medicine. Hot Guy continues to look at a row of bottles and Bucky’s extremely curious as to whether Hot Guy’s face is as perfect as his body. Bucky scans the aisle for the stupid goddamn cold medicine and – as typical of the universe’s tendency to fuck him over as much as possible – Hot Guy seems to be standing in front of the exact section he needs. Bucky sort of looks at the ceiling and mutters “Why?” before deciding that he might as well get this over with as Hot Guy doesn’t seem to be going anywhere soon. He clears his throat. Hot Guy turns around.

And Bucky is completely fucked because Hot Guy has possibly the most beautiful face that he’s ever seen and Bucky is extremely aware that he can’t remember the last time he shaved and his pyjamas are covered in cat hair and he’s all sweaty and disgusting from being ill. So he just kind of gapes. It’s not his proudest moment.

“Um … Can I help you?” Hot Guys says, and his voice is deep and raspy and Bucky wants to _die_.

Somehow he manages to say “I’m sick.” He mentally facepalms and tries again. “Uh … you’re standing – Sorry, I need to get to the –“

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Hot Guy says and moves aside.

Bucky stomps forward, cheeks burning and goes to grab the brand he usually gets.

“I wouldn’t get that one if I were you.” Hot Guy says, then looks surprised at himself. His cheeks go a bit pink when Bucky stares at him. “I mean, uh, I was sick a lot as a kid so I know my way around cold medicine.” He sort of laughs but Bucky can only stare at him again because he is an idiot. “Um, well, anyway, this one is the best. Tested and approved.” He takes a blue bottle from the top shelf and grins at Bucky who somehow manages to smile back.

“Thanks!” Bucky says too loudly. He winces. “Thanks. Uh, I’ve always gotten the same one so hopefully this will do the trick.” _Really, Barnes? Making small talk about fucking cough medicine? You used to be smooth._

But Hot Guy just smiles. “Yeah, hopefully.” He sticks his hand out. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Bucky shakes his hand rather eagerly. “Bucky Barnes.” He grins. And then realises. “Oh fuck, man. You might wanna wash your hands now. I’m super sick.”

“Yeah, you said.” Bucky looks up at Steve but he’s grinning at Bucky like he’s teasing. Like he’s _flirting_.

Bucky was not prepared for this.

“Well, I’ve been holed up in my apartment all day watching Star Trek, pal, I’m sorry if my social skills aren’t up to scratch.” Bucky sniffs rather disgustingly due to the plague. But he’s really trying not to smile.

Steve’s face lights up. “Star Trek? Really? Buddy, I was gettin’ ready to ask for your number but now I’m gettin’ ready to ask ya to marry me.” And Steve is smirking.

Bucky grins. “Well, sweetheart, my answer would depend upon whether you prefer Kirk or Picard.”

“Kirk. Obviously. He's  _iconic_. ”

Bucky puts a hand to his chest, mock offended. “Aww, you were doing so well, Steve. It’s Picard, man. He’s a diplomat. He upholds justice. Kirk just flounces around with his shirt ripped.”

Steve’s eyes twinkle as he leans in. “I know. That’s why he’s the best.”

And, okay, Bucky’s blushing really hard from _that_ but he blurts out, “Do you wanna come over and watch Star Trek with me?”

“Definitely.” Steve says.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god i know the the ending is rushed im sorry  
> idk how this became so star trek oriented? this was meant to be a meet cute but i failed im just star trek trash tbh  
> ALSO picard is the best captain fight me  
> i may add more to this maybe maybe maybe????  
> anyways thanks for reading!! <3


End file.
